


Zephyr

by gryffindormischief



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, F/M, Ireland, Mystery, Mythology - Freeform, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10424976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: When an old friend tips Ginny off to some suspicious happenings in a small Irish village, she and Harry get pulled into a town full of wary villagers and a centuries old mystery.





	1. Fancy meeting you here

**Author's Note:**

> The promised multichapter arrives! I attempt an Irish accent in here so if anyone has some tips I'd love them, but otherwise suspend your disbelief and such? Also there's going to be some myths and folklore referenced in here but it won't follow the real stuff exactly because I kinda adjusted it to fit the story. The plan is to update once a week schedule permitting :) Let me know what you think!

Silvery moonlight winks across the frothy waves that lick around her ankles, gauzy uneven skirts darkening with wet as tendrils of briny water slither back down her calves in unpredictable rivulets.

Water. It would be the key. It always had been.

* * *

 

The roar of the crowd reaches decibels higher than she'd previously thought possible as Ginny and her fellow chasers take a victory lap before game play resets after their most recent score. The trio of women exchanges quick code phrases as they decide on their next strategy when a few surprised shouts sound from across the stadium.

Still, they can't lose focus even if it likely means missing whoever gets the snitch, so they face off against the other team and her eyes zero in on the quaffle as it moves from hand to hand. There's always a chance that they _won't_ get it, or that the last 10 points gained by quick thinking could secure a win despite losing the 150.

Years of Quidditch – both at school, home, and professionally – had ingrained this single mindedness into Ginny so thoroughly that it was almost like breathing. They're nearing the goals now, swooping to and fro – around each other _and_ the opposing players – as Ginny is body-slammed by a frantic opposing chaser such that she nearly loses her grip on the quaffle.

Desperately, she grasps the ball with the tips of her fingers before delivering it into her fellow chaser's waiting hands, which immediately sink the final goal of the game before cheers and the only slightly louder final whistle signal the end of the game.

The Harpies had been tens of points ahead last Ginny had gathered from the tinny voice that sometimes broke through the noise of screaming fans, but she'd quickly forgotten the number and plowed ahead as vigilantly as if they were coming up from behind.

She still doesn't know the end result until Gwenog's barely there smile ticks up one corner of her tight pressed lips before the tall woman gives the sweaty team a curt nod, the late afternoon sun licking across her rich skin as she leads the way toward the eager press corps.

Nearly two hours later Ginny finds herself pushing through the throng of revelers at a local hole in the wall tavern that promises hearty meals, no press, and steadily flowing butterbeer, firewhisky, and the like.

Freshly showered, and ready to collapse in one of the wobbly chairs that surrounds the table her teammates have claimed, Ginny jolts when a broad hand claps on her shoulder.

"Well if it isn't my favorite chaser."

A casual rebuff including a low-key reference to her marital state is ready on her lips until she turns and sees Seamus' laughing hazel eyes and pulls him in for a tight hug. "Did I know you were here?"

"Just in town for a few, visiting me mam. A couple of friends had an extra ticket. Almost didn' believe I know _the_ Ginny Weasley," Seamus grins, clapping her on the back as he gestures for two tall glasses of lager.

Ginny catches the attention of one of her teammates across the crowded bar, assuring them she'll be over in a few, before she takes a seat with Seamus at the less crowded corner of the bar, drinks in hand.

They chat and catch up, asking after each other's families – Seamus has a steady girlfriend – before his laughing face drops, his tone serious. "Actually, I'm glad I saw ya."

Smacking his shoulder good naturedly, Ginny smiles, "Of course, always grand to keep in touch."

Seamus swallows a healthy mouthful of amber liquid and takes a steadying breath, " _And_ find someone who has a direct contact with the Auror Office?"

Ginny laughs, shaking out her still damp locks, "Two actually," then frowns thoughtfully, "You do too?"

"Harry's a bit more obligated to you than me," Seamus puts in, dragging a bowl of nuts over and tossing a few into his mouth.

"True," Ginny concedes with a nod before smirking, "Unless you're both keeping something from me."

Seamus laughs then settles in to explain. "I don't know how much ya know about Irish mythology."

She quirks a brow, inviting him to continue. "Well I've been hearin' some rumors 'round town, about a village that's supposed to have one of the most popular mythical objects."

"Which is?"

The bartender anticipates their needs and delivers two more lagers with a friendly nod before Seamus proceeds to explain. "It's the Chalice Well. Water's supposed to have healing abilities and never run out."

"From what you've said, I'm not sure why it'd be kept secret," Ginny puts in.

Seamus glances around before speaking again, apparently assured that they don't have any uninvited listeners, "Is Harry around? Because I think I've a guess."

Ginny shrugs one shoulder, "Couldn't make this one – training exercises but I can still contact him. Why the Aurors and not the Department of Mysteries?"

He looks disappointed at the likely delay but explains nonetheless, "Aside from not trusting those lads and ladies too much," he looks around cautiously once more, "Well you know how it's a magical well that never runs out?"

"So you've said," Ginny agrees, leaning closer.

"It's running out."

* * *

 

The grass stirs around Harry's boots as he lands easily at the proscribed apparition point and shuffles around in his pockets for the slip of paper Ginny'd left with her contact information, squinting to see it in the pale light. His dark coat brushes along his shins as he makes his way toward the village, still bustling but just beginning to quiet for the night. Green eyes darting toward the sparse street signs, Harry proceeds along the cobbled streets, hoping his natural sense of direction won't fail him.

After his pride takes a hit, Harry finds himself outside the small inn where his wife is staying and sweet talks the slight innkeeper into giving him a spare key so he can settle in before she returns. He sheds his coat and boots before sprawling comfortably across the brass bed, tufted quilt wrinkling beneath him as he lays back with a sigh.

He wakes from an unintended sleep to the soft press of lips to his forehead raises a hand to pull the interloper closer. "You'd better hope my wife doesn't show up and see you putting the moves on me."

She snorts and he can't help but laugh with her as Ginny plops on the bed next to him, the walk home giving her the fresh smell of the Irish countryside rather than stale pub scents. Either way he's all too happy to have her fiery locks tickling his nose and chin as she snuggles close. "Pleasant surprise, dear. Guess you just can't manage without me."

Harry sighs, one hand cradling his head while the other strokes her back reflexively. "Much as that's true it's actually your letter."

Ginny hums her understanding, fingers ghosting beneath his t-shirt as she throws one leg over his. "Seamus? I had a feeling – there must be countless spells and potions that center around water with magical properties."

"Too true."

"The trouble'll be narrowing it down," Ginny posits.

"Maybe not."

Propping herself up on one elbow, Ginny pokes at his sensitive spots, "Figure it out already smarty pants?"

Reflexes engaged, Harry quickly grabs at her hands, pinning them to his chest as he answers, "More like this is the answer to something we've been trying to figure out for the last month and a half – _at_ _least_."

Accepting her new perch, Ginny settles on his chest comfortably as she works through the information, "And they sent you away on routine training in the middle of – oh that wasn't training exercises was it?"

"Got it in one," Harry answers, congratulating her with a poke to the tip of her freckled nose.

Ginny wrinkles her face at that, but accepts the praise nonetheless, "You caught a smart one."

After a moment, she pulls away, going about her nightly rituals, which involves stripping out of her street clothes and consequently drawing the longing stare of her lonely husband.

Harry's about to speak but thinks better of it, biting his lip and flopping onto his back dejectedly. Having been married for long enough to understand his moods _and_ his job, Ginny cottons on quickly enough, "You've got to leave yeah?"

She receives no answer beyond a resigned sigh as she fastens the last few buttons on her nightshirt. "Wake me when you get back?"

"I-"

Before he can break into his self-sacrificial routine, Ginny tugs him from his prone position and lays a heated kiss on his lips. "No game tomorrow – it's a free day and then a team conference in the afternoon."

Harry pulls her in for one more kiss, perhaps lingering longer than intended, but still breaks away too soon for either of their tastes. "I've got to go poke around and then check in with the office, but I shouldn't be too late."

"I'm counting on it," Ginny drawls saucily, pressing a kiss to his jaw before shoving him out the door with a smack to his rear.

* * *

 

Sunlight streams through a crack in the curtains and Ginny scrunches her face against the offending rays and nuzzles against Harry's pale back, tightening her grip around his waist. "What time d'you have to be somewhere?"

Harry yawns, rubbing his eyes sleepily before he twists around under her arm. "I was about to ask the same thing. I'm not meeting Seamus 'til lunch."

Pressing a kiss to his chest, Ginny sighs, "How'd you arrange that?"

"Semaphore," Harry smirks, tipping onto his back and dragging Ginny with him.

"Right," Ginny snorts.

"I actually sent him a note as soon as I got yours," Harry supplies, pressing a kiss to her palm absentmindedly.

Ginny lets her fingers slip over his cheekbone and through Harry's dark locks as the clouds shift, golden light tilting across the quilt mussed by sleep and _other things_. "Well the team meeting is around one so I'll walk you to meet Seamus and go from there."

"Marking your territory?" Harry snickers as Ginny's lips move across his jawline.

"I've seen what attractive blokes get at pubs," Ginny hums against his ear.

Harry laughs, "Not from you I hope."

"Nah my husbands quite clingy – doesn't let 'em get very close."

"Lucky me then," Harry answers, nudging her lips toward his.

Ginny hums into his mouth, bracketing his hips with her knees, "We've got at least until half past though, yeah?"


	2. Being difficult is a sport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry begins the investigation - subtly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Did it! On the short side, but I've already divided the story into chapters and this was all I had set to cover for this one. Plus, longer chapters would take longer to write, so more time between updates. Let me know what you think please! I love to hear from you :)

Harry's lunch meeting with Seamus was made up of casual banter about their respective lives, followed by a quick debrief on what the Gryffindor alumni had gathered in his travels throughout Ireland over the past weeks. The actual information doesn't get much more detailed aside from hunches – valuable to they may be in the end – but Seamus provides Harry with the location of a small local general store where he's fairly certain the investigation can pick up.

After bidding each other farewell and promising to get their old class together once everyone's in town again, Harry heads back to Ginny's room and floos Ron to bring him up to speed with the almost case. Ron glances back over his shoulder to be sure he hasn't drawn any nosy parties in before leaning close, "Seems strange alright. But nothing particularly concrete, yeah?"

Nodding, Harry agrees, "I reckon I won't need back up until we get some confirmation on the story. Don't want the department wasting resources when I'm already most of the way there."

Ron hums, his eyes darting to the side briefly. "Alright well have fun on your holiday. I'll expect to hear everything that doesn't include whatever you get up to with my sister."

Harry snorts, but takes his cue from Ron and lets the _actual_ subject drop until later.

It's only a quarter of an hour later that Harry enters the dark shop, every surface littered with trinkets of varying values and the necessities for everyday living. He putters around, always mindful of the owner's watchful eyes.

He waits a handful of minutes, picking out some souvenirs for Teddy before proceeding to the check out where the cashier begins calculating the prices on the ancient looking register. Eyes seeking out the smudged nametag, Harry notes the name _doesn't_ match the one provided by Seamus and asks casually, "Is the owner in today?"

The woman – Maggie – lets her gaze trip over his features as she wordlessly packs Harry's purchases away in brown paper. His gaze doesn't waiver and she eventually relents, "Yeah, but Aisling stepped out, left me to mind things," she pauses, "is there a problem?"

Maggie's jaw clenches as she quirks a challenging brow, and Harry's considering the pros and cons of continuing his questions now when the cashier's face relaxes as she peers over his shoulder. "Here she is now."

Turning at the clacking of the old wooden door as it slams shut, Harry finds a middle aged woman carrying a heavily laden basket and patting down her grey streaked curls, robes damp from the mid afternoon rain shower. "Well who's – oh my _the_ Harry Potter darkens my doorstep."

Harry can't quite tell if that's a good or bad thing from her perspective, but he tries to grin (more like a grimace if he's being honest) and offers his hand, "I'm afraid I don't know you as well as you likely know me."

She smiles a little stiffly but shakes his hand, "Aisling," then turns her attention to Maggie as she begins unpacking the basket, "and don't charge him, its on the house."

Shuffling to the side to free the counter for other customers, Harry thinks quickly, grasping for some way to continue the conversation. "My wife and I are looking to go on holiday."

Aisling's mouth remains ticked up but her eyes shutter a bit, as if she sees where he's going. But he wouldn't be Harry Potter if he balked at a disapproving gaze, so he presses on. "We were thinking about somewhere along the Irish coast, since we're already here for Quidditch."

He's hoping the allusion to every witch and wizard's favorite magical sport might make Aisling forget to be suspicious, and she seems to, at least partially. "Ireland's a lovely place to visit. Only place I'd live."

"I heard from a friend that there's tons of local magic history and lore to learn. I can be a bit swotty about those things," Harry answers self-deprecatingly as he ruffles his hair.

"Expect you'll find more lore and myth than anything 'round here," Aisling offers gruffly as she steps around the counter and begins straightening the shelves, offering casual chit chat to locals as they come in for necessities.

Harry follows, making his way toward the exit. "You know anything about the Chalice Well?"

He's certain the stutter in her movements isn't imagined and bites back the desire to pump his fist triumphantly. "Sounds like a local legend to me. Kinda like the Fountain of Youth, yeah?"

Aisling restacks the candles she fumbled and turns to Harry, a forced smile. "Well yes. Of course. Probably started with the Muggles. I'm sure there's plenty of places you'll find some real magical history – much better for a holiday."

Resolved he won't be able to gather much more before nightfall, Harry strolls to the apparition point and ends up outside the inn the Harpies put Ginny up in for the week. With a perfunctory wave to the gangly teen manning the desk, Harry heads to Ginny's room and lets himself in with the key he'd gotten the day before.

The shower's running in the loo – Ginny'd been lucky to get a room that included one – so Harry pads through the room careful to avoid Ginny's discarded clothes and _underthings_ and settles in the armchair nestled against the flowery wallpaper.

With a sigh, he slumps down against the plush cushions and lets his head drop against the chair back, eyes sliding closed.

When he wakes, the sun's already mostly set and Ginny's leaning against the doorjamb, hair making wet spots on her green Harpies tee. "Well if it isn't my favorite Auror. Returned from his adventures."

Harry smiles and extends his hand toward her. Ginny closes the short distance between them and runs her fingers through his dark locks affectionately. "Don't get me all dirty – I've just had a nice shower."

"I'll have a wash if you bribe the bloke downstairs to pick up some bangers and mash from the pub," Harry mumbles into her midriff. "You don't mind a night in, yeah?"

Ginny moans, "There's nothing I'd like _more_. How shall I bribe him – my womanly wiles?"

Narrowing his eyes, Harry raises a finger before her nose and her eyes cross to follow it. " _No_. How about something from those piles of galleons the Harpies pay you."

"Wiles are so much more fun," Ginny answers with a smirk as she presses a kiss to his forehead, "but I'll humor you."

Tugging her back when she turns to leave, Harry places a blistering kiss on her lips. "I like when you use your wiles on _me_."

She laughs and tugs on a pair of jeans from her haphazard pile of clothes in the corner, which likely hides her battered travel luggage. "Well if you're going to go all Cro-Magnon man possessive on me, _you_ get to pay."

Quicker than a flash, her fingers trip over his trousers, retrieve his money purse, and she flits out of the room, slipping on her sandals along the way.


	3. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny are off on another adventure!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay update! The mystery gets moving a little bit in this chapter so that should be exciting? Plus introducing some characters. Let me know what you think!

Ginny's game starts at noon, so she's off a few hours ahead for warm-ups with a quick kiss to Harry's cheek and a wink.

He dresses quickly and checks in with Ron who promises to pull Hermione in for some research assistance. More like demands he be allowed to do so in order to avoid a certain angry ministry witch he happens to be married to.

Once he finishes brushing the ash from his clothes, Harry readies himself to depart for the stadium. The game is neck and neck from the start and brutal to the last. By the time the Ballycastle seeker swipes the snitch out of the air, Ginny has a harsh slash of blood across her jersey and her characteristic 'good sportswoman' expression plastered across her face.

Outside of Harry and probably Mrs Weasley, people won't notice the difference between Ginny's genuine contented smiles and the practical grimace riding her face now. Harry's already estimating how long it'll take to get his wife to the nearest ice cream shop that sells it to go _and_ by the pint.

That's not to say Ginny's not professional, but post-loss is one of the few times she'll let him coddle her, and that tends to happen infrequently so he takes his chance when he gets it.

Soon enough, Ginny's snuggled under his arm, their backs to the metal footboard, feet brushing against the meticulously painted dresser. She's working the spoon for both of them and if Harry tries to question her rationing he gets a sharp elbow to the ribs, which means its fair to say Ginny's single-handedly polished off half of the pint.

She's nothing if not regular though, so Ginny gives Harry one spoonful for every three of hers. As he swallows the latest bite – much more melty than at the start – he nuzzles her still damp hair. "How would you feel about taking a short tour of Ireland's coast?"

Ginny snorts, "Why do I have the feeling this isn't just a weekend holiday?"

"Because you know me too well."

* * *

The following day, they treat themselves to a late morning wake up and a borderline excessive brunch with entirely too much greasy food for their own good in the cozy downstairs breakfast room.

After double-checking the room for any accidentally abandoned items (Harry's notorious for forgetting _one_ sock) Harry and Ginny find the portkey Ron ordered for them and disappear in a swirl that knocks their breath away.

They're not too much farther down the coast so the weather's mostly unchanged – light clouds, blue sky, crashing waves. The town itself is different, smaller, and an entirely wizarding population so their muggle-friendly clothes stand out.

Which is initially what Ginny attributes the stares and suspicious murmurs to, until the pub owner flat out refuses to provide them with information about lodgings for the night.

Harry narrows his eyes but otherwise remains neutral as he presses the gruff man behind the bar, "So are you saying there's nowhere for a couple to stay for the weekend?"

The bartender braces his broad forearms against the bar top and matches Harry's stare. "I'm _sayin_ ' there isn't anywhere for _you_ to stay on such short notice. 'specially this time of year."

Dubious, Harry eyes the half-empty pub and Ginny's about to step in and may or may not be debating the pros and cons of whipping out her bat bogey when her contract's up for renewal when a small woman with piercing grey eyes steps up to the bar and cuts in, "Ignore Jim. Y'can stay with me and my husband. We've a small guest cottage. Used to be a barn – still smells like one if y'want full disclosure."

Before they can answer in the affirmative or negative, the as yet unidentified Good Samaritan cuts in, "I know who ye' are, and I think you should take my offer," she pauses, eyes darting around the room before she tugs them off into a corner and whispers, "I know why you're here, and we need you."

Ginny shrugs, and Harry chews his lip, weighing their choices, but in the end he agrees and they follow the woman from the pub.

They step into the cobblestone street and she turns to face them, "My name's Naida, by the by. Husband's Tierney."

Trying to let Harry take the lead, considering it's _his_ job, Ginny stays silent, but nudges him in a fairly non-subtle way and shoots him a look that says _get on with it_.

He fights the urge to stick out his tongue – largely in the name of professionalism rather than genuine maturity – and quickens his pace to walk next to Naida. "You said you know why we're here?"

Naida nods, her dark hair glinting in the midday light. "The Well. Must've heard about it from someone. Too much travel nowadays to keep it completely hidden."

Harry tilts his head in acknowledgement as Ginny comes up beside him, tucking her arm through his. Naida continues, "The Well – I'm not sure what _exactly_ you've heard – but the water has healing properties."

"Like for the flu?" Ginny prompts inquiringly.

"No one would use it for something so trifling," Nadia answers, shaking her head, "Most save it for life threatening situations. The elders decided long ago each villager would only get one dose. So everyone tends to use it sparingly."

Silence falls as they wind their way through a few side streets before the road turns to open country. Harry kicks at a pebble. "So someone's stockpiling it for themselves?"

The wind picks up, whipping stray tendrils from Nadia's plait. "I can't say. But I've a feeling it won't be quite that simple. Plus the nymphs – "

"Nymphs?" Ginny asks.

"They're connected to the water – it's their power source," Nadia fills in.

Harry narrows his eyes, "So with the lower levels – "

"Some have already died – the oldest and youngest," she looks distant for a moment, "They're the weakest, which means the lowered supply hits them hardest."

Naida tugs the rugged wooden gate in the stonewall surrounding her land open and gestures them through, slipping the latch back into place behind them.

A robust looking sheep strolls over and nudges Harry's knees, bleating at him with plaintive eyes. "Can you take us there?"

Ginny strokes the lingering sheep across its brow, fingers catching in the rough wool as they wait for Naida's hesitant answer. "Can't do it very _easily_. It's guarded so we'd have to –"

A tall, reedy man emerges from the nearby barn and narrows his eyes, voice thin but sharp, "I'm not helping and _she's_ not helping," he pauses and ruffles his lank brown hair agitatedly, "already bad enough if the leak gets traced back to us."

"Tierney – "

He continues before can answer, "Which it likely _will_ be since it seems we're becoming a bed and breakfast today."

Naida strides forward, hands on her hips, mouth set defiantly, "People in this town are so afraid of _outsiders_ stealing from us that when someone _is_ stealing they're too thick to ask for help."

Tierney blows out a breath and Naida moves in for the kill, "Do you really think _Harry Potter_ is going to get drunk with power if he's not already? Certainly had plenty of chances."

Harry quirks his brow, "Power?"

"My wife has already told you too much," Tierney answers, before shouldering past them and striding into the house.


	4. Progress isn't always comforting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny work on sweet talking some cooperation out of some hesitant locals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to work on this slowly over the last week in between studying bouts. Let me know what you think!

Ginny's sniffing at the greying pillows their hosts had begrudgingly provided when Harry exits the small loo, flicking his wand to light the lamps scattered about the relatively bare room. "First order of business, we've got to figure out why they're all so concerned about me getting 'drunk with power.'"

"Actually I think first order should be helping me check for bed bugs," Ginny shoots back with a smirk.

Harry wraps his arms around her waist as she turns down the threadbare quilt suspiciously. " _You're_ a bed bug."

She flicks his nose and assaults the bed with a few cleansing charms Molly had forced into her brain over the years. "And _you're_ quite the wretch. I've no idea how you managed to woo me."

He's halfway down the column of her neck when he answers cheekily, "It's m'dashing good looks and charm."

They flop onto the bed, springs creaking beneath them ominously, and descend into childish giggles, bouncing again and again as the racket fills the warming room. After their laughter fades, Ginny tucks herself into Harry's side, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as his breathing re-regulates. "Harry, I'm not sure you should call the aurors on this one."

His hum of agreement rumbles beneath her ear, finger's sweeping through her wavy locks. "I agree. But depending on what we find I may have to."

"I s'pose," Ginny allows, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow.

"It's not that I _want_ to – they've obviously managed things pretty well without us until now and it sounds as though there's plenty to fear if someone with bad intentions gets involved – "

Silence falls around them as the evening creatures emerge in the darkness outside their cozy shack of a room. Ginny presses a kiss over Harry's heart, propping herself on one elbow. "I know you'll figure out what's best, love. You've never been one to submit to authority for authority's sake."

The bed creaks again as Harry snickers and shifts, kicking his trainers off. "Aye, true enough. Gave McGonagall enough grey hairs for it."

"And mum."

Harry sighs and twists onto his side while maneuvering Ginny onto her back gently, "I reckon we can just stick with Ron for the present. Stay flexible as we go, yeah?"

Ginny nods before a mischievous smile slides across her lips and her fingers knit through his mess of hair, "I'm a fan of _flexibility_."

* * *

The following morning they're tucked together on the lumpy but free mattress, sheets blocking out the early morning light that spears through the grimy window overhead. Ginny presses a kiss to Harry's chest and he answers with a nuzzle to her rumpled hair. "So."

" _So_ ," Ginny parrots.

He pinches her bum affectionately, earning an affronted scoff. "Cheeky."

"Going to get to the point Mr Auror, or shall I go back to sleep?" Ginny asks with a smirk, tucking her leg between his as her eyes drift closed.

"I saw a library yesterday. Small, but it may have some information pertinent to our investigation," Harry answers, hands stroking up and down her spine gently, earning a shudder, much to Ginny's chagrin.

"Bit early to be using words like pertinent, eh?"

Harry nudges her shoulder, pressing her onto her back and looming over her with a grin, "What is _with_ you and the vocabulary?"

She scoffs again but doesn't answer so he noses her jawline playfully, lips tracing toward her ear, "Maybe you like it a little _too_ much."

"Don't be – "

He cuts her off before she can finish, " _Ludicrous_?"

With a grunt she drags his lips to hers, grumbling, "Maybe a snog'll shut you up."

The sun is fully risen by the time they make their way to the loo, Ginny slipping into the shower as Harry shaves at the chipped mirror. "After we find somewhere willing to sell breakfast to _outsiders_ what's say we head over to that library and poke around?"

"Aye, aye cap'n."

After needling a beedy eyed pub waiter into serving them the standard breakfast special, Harry and Ginny wander around town, taking in the minimal sights in an effort to seem less particularly motivated before finally heading for the almost shanty-like building simply marked 'Library' in faded red lettering.

A rusty bell rings their entry hollowly, followed by a thump and ominous dragging that has Harry fingering his wand and _slightly_ regretting not calling Ron in for back up. As it turns out, their would-be assailant is an _elderly_ man hunched over nearly from the waist and green eyes that drip over their forms with heavy suspicion. "What?"

Harry grunts at the forceful conversation starter – or perhaps _finisher_ , but Ginny manages to gather her senses and steps forward, offering her hand. "We're in town for the weekend, just poking around for something fun to do."

Scrunching his nose at the proffered hand, the man limps toward further back into the musty room, eventually settling onto a tufted stool. "Not sure when outdated books and mildew became 'somethin' fun.' How 'bout you stop lyin.' I figured I'd be seeing you strangers soon enough."

Eyebrows rising Harry leans against the grimy counter. "I wasn't aware libraries were checking for hidden motives now."

The man withdraws his wand and raises it with a low growl, "I wasn't aware _city_ lads were allowed to come in and – "

"Grandad! Stop," a voice cuts in from the back room, floorboards creaking beneath heavy footfalls. The younger man's lank wheat colored locks fall in waves around his rounded face, the muscles in his arms bulging with the effort of holding three broad crates.

Dropping his parcels on a nearby table, he pushes his grandfather's wand arm down and offers his hand to Harry and Ginny in turn, "Sorry about him, he's always been one for dramatics. I'm Sam, and he's Aengus."

Aengus's fierce expression drops to an exhasperated scowl, "S'not like I get much chance to _use_ 'em. Especially since everyone's so _suspicious_. I asked for a small talent show and nearly got _exiled_."

Sam's lips twitch in a grin but he bites it back and slaps Aengus' shoulder, "Ok Grandad."

Complying, Aengus sticks his tongue out at his grandson childishly and gestures them to follow toward a non descript door lurking in the shadowy back corner of the library. "This is our _special_ collection."

Harry darts his eyes toward Ginny and murmurs, "Kinda creepy again, yeah? But then again this whole _thing_ is creepy."

She shoots him an answering grin but excitement glimmers in her gaze.

Following them into the back room, Sam takes a seat at a squat table while Aengus shuffles about, tugging ancient looking tomes from the shelves with shocking rapidity. "Sam's wife was – _is_ – in charge of registry, our family is filled with generations of history keepers."

Sam's face shutters as they settle around the table and Aengus centers the books in front of him. Beneath the table, Ginny nudges Harry's foot delicately and he fiddles with his cuff. "Why'd you use past tense?"

"Not sure if she's alive," Sam offers darkly, scratching at a groove with his fingernail.

"Do you think her being missing is connected to the well?" Ginny asks with a frown.

"I tried not to think so – it was easier to figure she'd tired of me," Sam offers with a hollow smile.

Both Potters struggle for a comforting response but Sam seems to brush past the issue, pulling a book toward him and shuffling through the pages. "I know she didn't but she's got a connection to the Well, and someone who wanted to manipulate it would want her too," he sighs, "my only comfort is they need her alive – at least for the time being."

* * *

They spend most of the day holed up in Aengus' musty back room, emerging only to share a light lunch of meats and cheeses with their hosts before they crowd back around the table and pore over the hand-written books.

Most of that time is used learning exactly _how_ the cataloguing system works and attempting to develop some sort of game plan for processing the information being thrown at them.

After supper at the pub, Harry and Ginny stroll back to the guest cottage hand-in-hand, attempting to decide their next move.

Stray pebbles shuffle at their feet as Harry tilts his head back, taking in the darkening sky. "I'm not calling in the Aurors yet. But I'm calling in Ron – " he sighs, "and Kingsley."

Ginny nods her agreement, tucking herself against his side. "I agree. Robards might resent you going over his head though, yeah?"

Chuckling under his breath, Harry hums, "He'll have to deal with it."

Ginny's laughter fills the night air and she shifts to walk backwards on the country lane, pulling Harry along with her. " _Oh_. 'I don't give a damn' Harry is _sexy_."

Harry offers a rude gesture, but his grin belies any actual resentment.

"I'm not kidding," Ginny answers, twirling them in a half dance up the road toward the cottage.

He ruffles his hair, blush still evident even in the pale moonlight, "Really?"

Her flicking brows send a rush of heat through his chest but he presses forward, " _Anyway_ , I think there's more going on here than someone wanting more chances to heal."

"I agree."

Sighing, Harry lifts the latch and holds the gate open for Ginny, "So if this is some Voldemort wannabe, Kingsley needs to be watching from his end."

"Affirmative," Ginny responds, "Probably best to keep possible rising evil overlords on the down low, too. Avoid panic."

"So I reckon we keep Ron informed on the other end, and he can update Kingsley and a certain brainy ministry witch."

She snickers as they round the side of the main house, earthy scents wafting from the sheep enclosure. "Well, Hermione'll figure out what's going on if Ron twitches wrong so –"

"Quite right," Harry agrees, hesitating near the back of the house as he pulls Ginny to a stop, "You sure you want to spend your free time on this?"

Leaning against the weather-worn stone wall, Ginny lifts a hand to cup his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek gently, "Sure thing. It's good for bonding."

Harry nods shortly, pressing a kiss to her freckled forehead and lingering there as her arms wrap around his middle. He's about to pull away when her hands dip below his lower back and _squeeze_. "I can think of some other ways to bond, Mr Auror."

Before he responds her lips are on his, seeking and warm so that he nearly forgets his own name, let alone where they are – until an owl hoots from a nearby birch and he regretfully pulls back. "Much as I like this idea, can we get in the cabin first so Tierney doesn't turn up at an _inopportune_ moment."


	5. This is why we can't have anything nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron provides a link to home while Aengus offers Harry and Ginny some assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY finished exams and moving. Between the two and then sleeping them off I didn't have much chance to work on this, but we should be back to weekly updates as of now. If you're wondering, my guess is this will go 12-13 chapters total. More Aengus this chapter :)

Harry skirts around crackling leaves and other detritus that litters the forest floor habitually, avoiding noise that would alert any unwanted parties to his presence. Ginny however, has no such qualms, and instead seeks out the crunchiest twigs and leaves with a grin on her tired face.

The sun's rays have just begun kicking up over the horizon as Ginny reaches to steady Harry when he stumbles over a camouflaged root that's woven its way across the pseudo path. They finally reach the clearing they'd spotted on one of the age-worn maps at Aengus' the day before and Ron is already waiting with bleary blue eyes. "Why do we have to meet so bloody early?"

"Stealth, Ronnikins," Ginny snorts, tightening her ponytail absentmindedly.

Ron grunts, "Don't be _cheeky_."

"Fairly certain that's impossible, mate," Harry answers with mock sadness, shaking his head dejectedly, which earns him a shove from Ginny.

They spend the next half hour bringing Ron up to speed on their findings and hunches, bouncing ideas back and forth until the forest floor is bright under the morning sun that breaks through the reaching branches overhead.

With a short nod, Ron pushes away from the tree he's been leaning against and tugs his wand from his pocket. "I'll pass things along to Kingsley, then."

Harry offers a casual salute as the wind ruffles his hair and Ginny punches her brother's arm, "Thanks mate."

Ron's about to twist away when he pauses mid step, chewing his cheek anxiously, "You really think – _again_?"

Grimacing, Harry nods, feeling Ginny's fingers slip through his and squeeze. After a moment he ruffles his hair. "I think we could be getting there and we should cut things off before it goes too far – if it hasn't already."

The trio is quiet for a few moments before Ginny prods Harry's bicep, "Must love my ever positive, glass half full partner for life."

Snickering, Ron shoots a stinging hex at Ginny's bare arm. "Oi! He's _my_ partner for life."

Responding with a quick jelly legs jinx that finds its mark, Ginny rises from her perch, brushing dirt and God knows what else from her cut offs. "Oh Ron, don't be jealous."

Harry snorts as he reaches out questing fingers for his wife to help him from the ground, while Ron simply narrows his eyes.

Ginny presses a kiss to the underside of Harry's jaw, nuzzling playfully just _there_ so that he wishes Ron was already gone and there was a non-bark or stone covered surface nearby. Harry's recalled from his increasingly vivid day dream when Ginny wraps her arm around his middle and prods Ron with the proverbial stick, "I'll step aside for family harmony, brother dearest."

"Stuff it or I'll tell Harry about your frequent need for black and green crayons after my first year," Ron volleys with a snicker.

Unperturbed, Ginny folds her arms across her chest, "I've a feeling _marrying_ him tipped my hand and even Harry's clued in on my fancying him."

The siblings brush past Harry's indignant huff as Ron moves on from his first threat without pause, "What about the _songs_?"

"I managed to move past fresh pickled toad, mate," Harry puts in, hoping to avert another duel when he sees Ginny's brown eyes flash in annoyance at her brother.

They remain squared off for a moment, sizing each other up before Ron takes a step back, relenting with hands raised defensively. "I yield. Hermione said she's not reversing hexes anymore. Almost went mad after the tickling hex on Boxing Day."

Ginny delivers an affectionate punch to Ron's arm before he disappears with a crack and Harry and Ginny do the same, appearing on the outskirts of the village before strolling toward the local pub for an early lunch.

The sun's fully overhead when Harry leaves a handful of gold on their abandoned table sufficient to cover their meal and then some and the couple strolls casually through the cobbled streets. "You were feeling quite generous today, eh?"

"Can't hurt to get on _someone's_ good side."

"Love a good bribe."

After Ginny impulse buys an intricately threaded Irish lace table runner for Bill and Fleur's anniversary gift, they leave the main settlement and head toward the location they'd arranged to meet with Aengus, his old hunting shanty which appears lonely from years of disuse. At least if not for the thin tendril of smoke rising from the chimney.

As the path changes from gravel to tramped down wild grasses, Aengus emerges from the cabin, leaning heavily on his crutch, eyes light and welcoming despite his craggy visage and semi-permanent grimace. "'bout time you lazy folks showed up."

Before she passes through the doorway, Ginny leans down and brushes a kiss against Aengus' rough cheek. "Thanks for your help."

A grin splits his wrinkled face along with an accompanying blush that he hides with a scowl when Harry wriggles his brows playfully. Without more delay, Harry and Ginny settle around the cramped table while Aengus busies himself in the corner, ensconced on a wingback armchair leaking springs and stuffing. When Ginny eyes his project – a half finished baby bonnet if appearances are to be believed – he raises a challenging brow, and Ginny bites back her questions with a small smile.

After skimming the books, ledgers, and stray parchments Aengus had snuck out of town that morning, they divide the work; Ginny sorting through the history of the Well while Harry reads the tedious but hopefully useful ledger of water dispersals over the years.

The account of the Well begins with it's 'creation' – ancient travelers migrating from the north struck the rocks in desperation and found an endless source of water they soon discovered supplied more than hydration. From the beginning, they knew it was the type of power that should be kept secret – some motivated by fear of power hungry outsiders and others who simply refused to share their fortuitous discovery with anyone else.

Despite the somewhat precarious state of the small society they established around the Well, the village remained relatively free of dramatics until –

"Hey, Gin, is there anything mentioned about a century ago? Why there were no dispersals? My history of magic knowledge is somewhat lacking." Harry grins self-deprecatingly as he turns to Ginny, awaiting her answer.

Which comes much more swiftly than expected. "Late 19th century? Yeah. It's just marked as the Tart Mór."

Before they puzzle over the translation for more than a moment, Aengus' hands still, his eyes shuttered as his gaze fell. " _The Great Thirst_. Our darkest time. We were nearly destroyed."

Harry and Ginny share a glance before Harry prompts, "I take it the drought wasn't a natural occurrence?"

Aengus frowns, "Aye. I was there, young though I was I still remember," he glances at Harry's scar for a moment, "I guess you know how things stick with you even when you're a young'n."

Ginny chews her lip thoughtfully before speaking, "Can you tell us then? About the –"

Head shaking Aengus stands with some difficulty and shuffles toward the door, gesturing for his companions to follow. "I've a feeling you'll be needin' the word of a history keeper – not the ramblings of an old man."


	6. Dark times, dark deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny get an important history lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short, but this covers my notes for chapter 6 and I figured you'd all rather get a shorter update now than wait another few days? I should update again next week so this is just keeping us on schedule :) There's some big plot development here with back story about the town! Let me know what you think please! I love hearing your insights :)

A dragonfly hovers dangerously near Harry's sandwich, and he's debating whether said dragonfly is trying to _eat_ his sandwich, when Ginny speaks, "The more I think about it, the stranger it seems that Aengus wouldn't talk about what he remembers."

Harry waves his hand lazily and the dragonfly buzzes away. "You think so too?"

Condensation runs cool over Ginny's fingers as she mulls over the facts for a moment. "Seems like someone with his flair for dramatics would love the chance to talk about it, yeah?"

"Aye. This town is a little strange though, must be a custom," Harry surmises as they both turn toward a rustling in the trees.

When Sam's pale head comes into view Ginny hides a snicker behind her hand, "Apparently Aengus really _can't_ resist dramatics."

Harry stands and offers his hand to the newcomer, "Your grandfather could've told us it was you."

"I warned you," Sam offers with a tight smile, fingers toying with the wedding band that glints on his finger.

After a moment of hesitation, Sam takes a seat against one of the ancient trees that looms around the small clearing and settles in while Harry begins, "Do you know about the Well-"

"It's my sacred duty to know," Sam interrupts quietly.

Ginny smirks, "So is that a yes?"

This manages to draw a real grin out of Sam as his eyes flit between the Potters, "Is your marriage just endless sass with each other and then occasionally directed toward outsiders?"

They both shrug and Sam laughs lightly, "Cute."

There's a pause again before Sam takes a steadying breath and plunges into his tale. "I assume you've learned about the basics of our little society," he pauses long enough for them to nod in agreement before he presses on, "People were largely content with the system – the rationing – even if it meant dying because that was how we had always managed things. It made sense and when you think about it, who _wants_ to live forever?"

Harry grimaces but nods nonetheless, and Ginny's hand finds his in the soft grass.

Sam sighs, stroking his sparse beard thoughtfully. "Everything went fine for the first couple hundred years, until one man started a careful campaign _against_ rationing, he argued it was a pointless rule because the resource wasn't finite."

"The elders weren't persuaded, said it was less about availability and more an issue of human nature."

Ginny nods in understanding as Sam plows ahead. "Up until this point, we had only had a single dose in a life time – now someone wanted to make it available in unchecked, large doses."

Harry's mouth falls into a wry smile, "Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to end well?"

A dark chuckle rumbles in Sam's chest as he shares a commiserating glance with Harry. "Well he decided to prove them _wrong_ – partially because he thought he was right and partially because his daughter was dying."

"When it seemed clear that his more democratic approach wasn't working, he waited until he had friends on the guard roster, and stole the water for his daughter."

He pauses here, and Ginny passes their flask over, frowning as he swallows a few gulps. "So just one extra dose caused trouble? Was the revocation a punishment?"

Swiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Sam shakes his head, "She had a chronic illness. The water helped, but it didn't _cure_ it, so he didn't stop."

Harry's lips fall into a thin line at this point and Ginny can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves as Sam's story proceeds. "Eventually, he noticed she was getting stronger – _too_ strong – the wrong kind. So he tried to stop."

"But she wouldn't let him?" Ginny guesses.

Sam nods, handing the flask over again and sliding his legs out in front of him. "From what the stories say, it was almost like her father was _Imperiused_. But he still knew what was happening, just couldn't fight it. I'm inclined to think seeing his daughter like that – I can't imagine."

Despite the bright sun overhead, the forest feels colder now, wind whipping through the trees, rustling branches and overturning leaves that litter the dank floor. Harry brings them all back to the present, "I assume something happened to _stop_ her, yeah?"

Sam rubs his eyes tiredly, "Her father. He acted compliant while she terrorized the village. Then one night when he raided the well, threw himself over the side."

Ginny's repacking their basket slowly when she asks, "So she just faded out of power? Left everyone alone?"

Face shuttering, Sam shakes his head, "She tried to get it for herself, but she's too weak – her body can't live without it anymore. So they saw their chance, knew she would never stop, and killed her."

Harry can't help the distress that slashes across his face, "A _child_?"

The trio stands and begin walking toward the open countryside as Sam responds. "She'd more than reached her majority. And it wasn't a torturous affair from what we know."

"After the sea burial – that's our custom, over the cliffs, back to our origins," Sam continues, eyes distant, before he shrugs, "At least that's what the chants say."

They're nearly at the farm house where Harry and Ginny have been staying when Ginny asks, "You think we can convince Aengus to talk about it? He seemed less than eager."

Sam looks at his hands, voice hard when he speaks, "If it means a better chance of getting my Katie back, he'll talk."


	7. Skin in the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny gather intel, and a new ally...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've lost track of which weeks I've updated, but I think this is going up kind of on schedule? Some Hinny fluff this chapter, Romione appears, and some plot stuff too! So action packed little chapter :) As always I love to hear what you think!
> 
> There were a couple of questions in the comments last week and I think I addressed them in here, but that was actually helpful when I decided what to include, so if you have any questions about the story, please ask and I'll try and answer either in an author's note or in the story itself!

The rising sun turns blue waves golden as night creatures find their homes and the world wakes for another day. It's closer now than ever, so that she can taste it like the salty water that licks across the shore, breakers into sea foam that clings to the powdery sand.

Their time is nearly at hand.

* * *

Katie's body is still trembling with the last jolts inflicted by her captors, the coppery taste of blood lingers in her mouth where she'd bitten her tongue to suppress the screams that clawed up her throat every time another _Crucio_ was called. She'd rasped again and again that not only _wouldn't_ she surrender her dutifully kept secrets, she _couldn't._ Long ago they'd decided trusting their own self-control wasn't enough, and each keeper was enlightened by their predecessor, always under a type of _Fidelius_ to ensure only the worthy learned the Well's secrets _._

In the end, her sanity only remains because thoughts of her dear Sam, his grin, and his unending loyalty convincing her she _won't_ die here among duplicitous enemies.

* * *

The bank around the watering hole is muddy with footprints when they arrive, but they're not new and the clearing is pretty abandoned, like they'd been counting on when they chose such an early hour. Sandals in hand, both Potters linger, mud squelching between their toes as the forest wakes around them. Ginny's wriggling her toes at a distinctly unconcerned toad when Harry speaks up, voice still scratchy with sleep. "I'm fairly certain this water is just regular old pond water."

Ginny grins, nudging him with her elbow. "Scared?"

He grabs the offending limb and tugs her in close, his arms banding around her waist as he nibbles at her jawline. " _You wish_."

Harry's just made his way to her earlobe where he's doing _that thing_ that makes Ginny do _that moan_ when suddenly there's nothing but air beneath him as he plunges in a splayed flop into the waiting waters.

When he extends a hand, asking for assistance with a pathetic pout, Ginny shakes her head long-sufferingly. "Have you _met_ my brothers. You're about fifteen years two late for Ginny Weasley to fall for _that_."

Unluckily for Ginny, Harry knows two things: first, Ginny Potter, née Weasley, is prone to excessive pacing when she's feeling particularly braggadocios, and second, sometimes the best weapon against one's opponent is their surroundings. Which is how Ginny ends up stepping directly into the makeshift mudslide Harry worked up while _she_ was getting worked up.

By the time her head breaks the green-blue surface, a snarl firmly in place along with the mud and leaves tangled in her fiery waves, Harry's battling a full on laughing fit. Which soon breaks Ginny's put-on anger and the couple descends into childish giggles that wake even the proverbial early birds.

* * *

Aengus is even less eager to talk than the first time they met him – likely because this particular discussion is one he _actually_ wishes to avoid. But despite his reticence, his loyalty to Sam outweighs his apparent distaste for dredging up the sordid past of their small community.

They're secure in the back room of Aengus' shop – closed for the day – when he finally begins to weave the story from his point of view. "The years in between – the ones Ginny here noticed – were for cleansing rituals since death had entered the life giving waters."

Harry nods but his brow furrows as he pieces what they've learned so far together. "I understand the need to suspend drinking rights, but why the _Tart Mor_ , why was it so dark?"

"That woman – the one who took more than she deserved – didn't have a monopoly on corruption or a taste for anarchy," Aengus answers, expression grave. "I was growing up in this era, so some of it is naught but a hazy memory."

Ginny pats his arm encouragingly as he fiddles with the chipped tea service. "It's more than we've got, eh?"

He grins toothily at Harry. "What a woman you've got – beautiful _and_ smart."

The arm Harry has draped over Ginny's chair back drops to her sun kissed shoulders as he tugs her close. "Too right. She'd have my job if I wasn't careful."

While the two men share a grin Ginny rolls her eyes affectionately. "I can get you boys in touch with my fan club after we finish, yeah?"

Aengus sends Ginny a flirtatious wink that Harry huffs at exaggeratedly before the older man sobers again. "Still, we made it through the dark period that came after – but not without a price. Everything 'bout the Well was even _more_ closely guarded from before. And even though the threat came from within, we essentially closed our 'doors' to outsiders."

Harry grimaces. "So our arrival was unusual."

"I'd say the first in the last decade."

* * *

In the end, Aengus didn't give them much more to go on than the history they'd read, aside from the more human aspect of the panic during and after the Tart Mor. After a hearty supper provided by Sam, Aengus heads for his small cottage and leaves Ginny and Harry with a key to the back door, giving them leave to use his floo.

Once the two men depart, Harry tosses the powder into the flickering flames and calls out Ron's name. Freckled face surrounded by flames not unlike the shades of his own hair, Ron grins. "Missed my glorious visage?"

Ginny sticks her tongue out childishly. "Actually we're looking for someone useful."

Ron gapes dramatically in that way that's usually accompanied by a hand clasped to the chest and forces tears from his blue eyes. Harry laughs but nods his agreement, "We've actually got some interesting history and magic going on here – thought Hermione might be interested."

When Harry finishes explaining, the elder Weasley is still weeping dramatically, a sight they enjoy until Hermione elbows him away from the fireplace, her bushy hair wild amongst the flames. "Thanks for tagging me in officially _Harry_."

Ron's shoving in again, "Sorry I –"

He pulls away with a yelp – likely borne of an expertly placed pinch – and Hermione reappears, rolling her eyes affectionately, " _Ron_ here says its 'official top secret business on a need to know basis.'"

"Well it –"

Hermione doesn't pause to allow Harry's thought, "And I see _Ginny_ gets to know."

"She just –"

On a roll now, Hermione plows ahead, apparently having been mulling over the slight for some time, "So I'm reduced to _eavesdropping_."

"Hermione!" Ginny finally cuts in bringing the rant to a halt, but Harry pulls her back and smirks at where he guesses Ron is located – "have fun bringing her up to speed mate."

The following morning Ginny wakes to Harry nuzzling her collarbone enticingly in the dim light, "Sleep well?"

"Can we sleep well a little longer," she manages to grumble out mulishly – until Harry's lips begin working over her throat, warm and breathy.

"Wouldn't you rather do _something else_ before we wake up for the day?" he murmurs against her earlobe.

Ginny's fingers spear through his wild locks before she answers, "I think your," she breaks off when his lips finally meet hers, "proposal," another kiss, "requires being _awake_."

Harry's already worked his hands up beneath her oversized t-shirt when he pulls her to over over him, "Yeah, but the _fun_ kind."

After, the sun's fully up, and Harry and Ginny dress and set off to meet Aengus and Sam for a regroup and strategy session over breakfast at the bookshop. Harry's sopping the last of his dippy eggs when he finally broaches the _real_ topic he's been wanting to discuss. "Can we see the Well?"

The two men share a nervous glance, Sam's slightly pleading, but Aengus is the one who speaks, "This isn't personal, but I'm not sure that's a wise idea."

Harry's entreaty stutters to a halt when Tierney bursts into the room, "I'm the first to be cautious but we've got to let him go. In fact I'll take him there m'self."

Ginny barely has a chance to consider how likely it is that their host _hasn't_ been stalking them since they arrived and still found them so easily this morning before Tierney continues, eyes wild, "Naida – y wife – she's gone," his voice breaks, " _taken_."


	8. Did you really expect any different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ginny, and Tierney formulate a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some questions are answered in this chapter but all will be revealed as things come to a close.

Following Tierney's declaration, they manage to draw as much information as possible out of the suddenly loose lipped man, from personal to civic history, and it seems Tierney was the best kept secret of the small town. Although Harry's not much surprised that the quiet, ornery man was knowledgeable in the old lore and mythology of the village. It turns out Naida – and Katie – are related, however distantly, through their _less common_ heritage. Similar to Veela, when water Nymphs mix with wizards, the female children retain some of the most basic traits, with varying power and ability. In some areas, this leads to divided societies, where the half-nymphs are part revered, but mostly feared and judged.

For this small Irish hamlet, women who descend from the nymphs are valued for their connection to the waters, more specifically the Well itself, which is a powerful symbol _and_ rejuvenator for the magical beings. Which is where the deaths and migrations being traced by the Aurors come into the picture.

Tierney leaves the shop to take care of personal matters and buy supplies for lunch, and their travels that night, so Harry and Ginny floo Ron briefly to catch him up on recent events. Harry's disappointed to find Ron out of the office, but leaves a message, asking for back up in the investigation considering the far reach of the water shortage on the nymphs as well as the double kidnapping.

When they douse the connection Harry sighs, pressing his glasses high on his forehead as he rubs his eyes tiredly. "Nice weekend getaway with a side of societal collapse, eh?"

Ginny's fingers work at his tense shoulders diligently. "It's not all that bad. No one's dead yet."

Harry grins wryly. "Aye. That's the litmus test. No deaths – successful day at the office."

They fall into silence for a beat before Harry pushes away from the creaky table, head heavy. "I vote for a pre-invasion kip. What say you?"

Tugging him from the chair and into the late morning sunlight, Ginny smirks dangerously. "With some of my specialized _relaxation_ techniques first?"

He presses a kiss to her lips and sighs, ready to hesitantly brush away her proposal when Ginny interrupts, "Before you say no, first, we can't make a move until nightfall – you know it, I know it, and Tierney confirmed it. Second, we haven't even got the supplies yet, so if you just sit around like a sad sack, you'll just be torturing us both," Harry makes to speak but Ginny doesn't surrender, raising three fingers dramatically, "and _thirdly_ , we know the women aren't in danger of death because the kidnappers need them alive for whatever this plot entails."

"You certainly know how to get me in the mood," Harry answers, lips ticking up as he rolls his eyes and raises his voice to a mockingly high pitched tone, "'Oh Harry, don't worry. We can shag because no one's going to die – _yet_."

Ginny shoves him so he nearly trips into the muddy ditch that parallels the road. "I didn't say _no one_ would die. You may not be able to face the glory of my body and come out alive."

Instead of answering, Harry's mouth snaps shut and he pulls her close, fingers weaving through her fiery locks. "I love you."

Kissing him lightly, Ginny's mouth quirks in a smile, teeth pearly against her tanned skin. "Yes, yes. I hear many a love declaration from admirers of my physique. It's a work of art I tell you."

Her laughter fades when Harry's expression remains serious, and she brushes his fringe back, only to have it bounce back over his faded scar within moments. "What is it love?"

Harry blinks a few times, chewing his lip before he speaks. "I- you just always know what to say, to get me – I dunno."

When he trails off with a self-conscious shrug, they come to a halt just outside of Tierney and Naida's fence, and Ginny presses her lips to the underside of his jaw. "I know _you_. And we just fit, yeah?"

His fingers tighten where they rest on her hips and Harry blows out a steadying breath and his eyes spark mischievously. "I'll not argue _that_ point."

Snickering, Ginny smacks Harry's chest and the moment is light again. "Such a _boy_."

"I thought you rather _liked_ that I was 'such a boy.'"

Ginny rolls her eyes and leads the way to the small guest cottage. "How do we always get here," she ignores the beginnings of Harry's no doubt terribly pitiful response, "with you and your – _boy-ness_."

Harry wriggles his brows and tugs her into their room. "I think I know a way to refresh your memory."

* * *

 

After their brief _relaxation_ , Harry and Ginny reconvene with Tierney in the main house, homey but somehow grey in Naida's absence. They crowd around the small dining table as Tierney explains the landscape and their path of approach designed to reach the Well unannounced and unnoticed. Ron sent a simple message to say he was preparing, but Harry still plans to move in covertly with Tierney's help and gain as much information as possible before the Aurors arrive with reinforcements.

Looking over their plans briefly once more, Harry nods a few times before his brow furrows. "So how do we get by without – " he breaks off, gesturing to the small ticks denoting guard patrols.

Tierney nods knowingly, "I've made sure the watchers for tonight are on our side."

Harry tilts his head thoughtfully but doesn't press the issue and Ginny chews her lip. "It's still probably best to stay quiet in case our enemy's watching, yeah?"

Harry quirks brow, inviting her to continue.

Shrugging Ginny pulls a slip of scrap paper and a ragged quill toward her. "Quidditch strategy comes in handy in more than just Quidditch."

And Ginny's abilities do blend with Harry's rather seamlessly, so the trio makes it through the surrounding forest and over the no-man's land type expanse that separates the tree cover from the stone face of the jutting mountain that encapsulates the Well with relatively little stress. Harry's about to whisper to Ginny about the unsettling ease with which they succeeded with this part of the plan when a looming figure comes up behind him, and before he can call a warning to Ginny up ahead, everything goes black.


	9. Brawls can be quite cleansing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny tend to do their best work under pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there WILL be unanswered questions at the end of this chapter, but rest assured I'll address them in the wrap up one. Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Update: I took out the last two lines bc I felt like they weren't fitting but it'll be around in some form next chapter...

The thudding in Harry’s skull wakes him before the stinging slice across his cheekbone does, and for once he’s grateful that dark arts practitioners prefer dimly lit rooms for their exploits. His glasses are perched crookedly on his face and bent awkwardly, but luckily largely still useful, which is excellent because his hands and feet are bound tightly with thick, braided rope. Briefly, Harry feels relieved when Ginny isn’t visible, hoping that she somehow evaded capture. But his momentary foray into the world of optimism is short lived when he spots her a few paces away, blinking blearily, red hair soaking in the grimy water where she lays.

Focusing on his voice, Harry’s pretty certain he hasn’t been langlocked, so he whispers sharply, “ _Ginny – Gin_.”

Her eyes fly open on the second entreaty and her nose scrunches at the grubby water she’s been tossed in, she mouths for him to wait a moment. Soon enough, she’s wriggled into a sitting position and is working her way across the distance between them in a kind of imitation of an earth worm when voices sound from the darkened hallway, wand light bouncing off the stone walls, and Ginny freezes, eyes blown wide.

Before Harry has a chance to even _half_ form a plan, Tierney strides in with a taunting grin, fists on his hips as he takes in their bedraggled forms. “How d’you fancy the hospitality ‘round here?”

Ginny growls low, but it’s Harry who speaks, “Didn’t take you for power hungry _and_ spineless.”

“Says the famous auror practically hog-tied at my feet.”

The cocky Potter smirk slides across Harry’s face as he tilts his head back against he rough-hewn wall. “I don’t need to tie up my opponents to win – not that the games up yet.”

Tierney’s face heats in anger, but Naida enters and cuts their repartee short. “Enough. We need to prepare for the sacrifice,” she eyes Harry, “Or would you rather find someone _else_ who twice survived death to renew the Well.”

Harry doesn’t have much chance to wonder how exactly their captors knew Harry should have died the second time, because they’re striding from the room and Ginny’s slipping the ropes from her wrists – _apparently she’s even slipperier than he thought_. Still, he’s glad, hopeful that she’ll manage to slip away and to safety before –

“Thought I’d just save my own skin Potter? Offensive,” Ginny whispers almost inaudibly.

“I thought you’d leave and reassess,” he answers just as quietly, head tilting toward hers in the dim light.

Her fingers are working at the ties on his wrists. “Did you?”

“Hoped?”

She huffs a laugh, and the ropes fall from his wrists before she moves to his ankles, working quickly now that she’s done this three times. “What’s the fastest way to get Ron here?”

The ropes on his ankles are tighter than the others, taking longer. Harry pulls Ginny close, hand firm on her arm, desperate. “It starts with you getting as far away as –“

Boots are shuffling down the corridor and Harry’s eyes sharpen. “Gin, get out of here before they’re back.”

Frowning, Ginny tries to push away and return to his feet. “I’m almost through.”

The footsteps are getting nearer now, voices bouncing off the stone walls. “Would you rather we _both_ die?”

Her gaze hardens. “I’d rather _no one_ die,” Harry makes to interrupt but Ginny doesn’t allow it, harsh whisper defiant in the dark, “I’m coming back – _with help_.”

Ginny presses a kiss to his lips and Harry wants to deepen it, tries even, but Ginny pulls back, eyes darting between his. “No goodbye kisses, just see you soon, yeah?”

“I – ” he cuts off when the voices get closer and nearly shoves Ginny toward the only other exit, “ _Get Ron_.”

Two of Tierney’s ‘friendly’ guards enter the room, expressions dull when the shorter one glances around the room. “Where’s the red head?”

Harry doesn’t even have time to earn the sharp kick to his middle before it comes. And despite their keen senses, his attackers didn’t manage to notice his unbound hands, so soon enough he’s got one in a headlock and the other is doubled over, hands cupping his abused _nether regions_. He’s just managed to get his grip _just right_ so his attacker passes out when a hooded figure enters the room, wand extended, and both unnamed men are tossed wordlessly toward the far wall, landing in an unceremonious heap.

As if things couldn’t have gotten worse, three more figures enter the room, two hooded and the third a fuming and thrashing Ginny Potter née Weasley who has some choice words for the taller guard. It’s only after Harry’s managed to nudge his spectacles back in place after the scuffle knocked them to the ground that Harry notices the too-short robes that show off the taller guard’s well-worn jeans and battered trainers.

He blinks a few times and tilts his head toward the hoods, and finds the slighter figure does indeed have frizzy brown hair peaking from beneath her hood. Ginny’s still struggling dramatically, so Hermione manages to pull back her stolen cloak just enough to send Harry a wink without drawing scrutiny.

Ron’s jostling Ginny forward now and she’s _really_ kicking up a fuss and Harry figures they must have some plan formed so he jumps in as best he can, kicking his legs at the hooded leader while Ginny and Ron slip behind, emerging with two wands – presumably his and Ginny’s.

With the type of accuracy one would expect from a Harpy, Ginny tosses Harry’s wand across the short distance and soon all hoods are down and angry dark spells are bouncing off the walls from Naida’s wand. “I don’t want to kill anyone, Mr Potter.”

Ron ducks and rolls as an Avada Kedavra whistles past him and shatters a pile of stones. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Naida laughs darkly. “We just need Potter. Alive.”

Just as they’re making headway working Naida into a corner, three more guards burst into the room and Harry’s left dueling Naida by himself. “The million galleon question is, how long will I _stay_ alive?”

“You of all people should understand sacrifice for the greater good,” Naida drawls, her hair shimmering in the firelight. “I don’t ask you to do anything I haven’t done.”

A quick glance confirms Ron has managed to disarm his opponent, Ginny and Hermione not far behind, and Harry’s just turning back when Naida slashes her wand and crimson blood pours from the gash on Harry’s shoulder, his grip loosening slightly with the shock. “I haven’t seen _you_ sacrifice much.”

“All causes need a leader. And leadership has its costs. In the end, bringing back the _ceann mór_ was worth a few lives.”

Harry snorts as his wand slips in his hand, slick with blood. “I’m certain your reasons for bringing the woman back has nothing to do with the power she wielded before her death.”

Naida ignores the jibe, firing a few more hexes rapid fire, the last one leaves Harry’s shoulder smarting. “All water is like a mirror – but with the right kind of water and the requisite ceremony, it’s a portal.”

Two thuds sound behind him but Harry can’t turn away as Naida becomes increasingly vicious in her attacks. Ropes swirl from the tip of Harry’s wand but only manage to wrap around her non-dueling hand. “So you’re bringing her back?”

“As soon as I kill you,” Naida answers quickly, darkly, as she slashes her wand three times in quick succession and Harry’s wand clatters from his bloodied hand.

Suddenly, Ginny’s there, shoving him backward and resuming his place in the duel as she growls dangerously, “Not so fast.”

By the time Harry’s found his own wand, Ginny’s already lost hers. Before Naida can finish the deadly spell on her lips, Ginny grabs one of the shattered stones and tosses it violently into Naida’s stomach. Sent sprawling, Naida tumbles into the fire and vaporizes in a cloud of mist.

 


	10. Reunions and future plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything explained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter! I think everything is explained, at least as far as I planned to, so I hope you are all fulfilled! Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!
> 
> UPDATE: I added like 2 sentences to the end because it felt a little wonky, so you may want to check them out :)

Ginny's mouth falls open, as she scrambles back on her hands until she's backed into Harry's chest. "I didn't – "

Harry's arms wrap around her tightly, legs boxing her in as he presses kisses to her hair. "I know Gin, I saw."

After sufficiently subduing their opponents, Hermione and Ron join them, the former frowning thoughtfully for a moment before she speaks, "That woman – I started my research like you asked."

Ron reaches to squeeze Hermione's hand gently as she blinks and clears her head. "She misted – which means – that's _quite_ unusual."

"You're telling me," Ginny snorts without humor, voice hoarse.

The small fire blooms from embers and Hermione pulls Ron to sit near Harry and Ginny as she continues, "She must have been drinking the water herself _and_ have a lot more nymph in her ancestry than she's admitted."

Despite Harry's protestations, Ginny insists she's fine to continue so after they take turns patching each other up with various bare minimum healing charms before they move down the only pathway they know leads further into the mountain.

Hermione's bringing up the rear, eyes darting grimly over the walls, searching for any relevant evidence when she pauses, "Why didn't you use the Invisibility Cloak?"

Ginny shrugs, "Tierney still would've been a rat."

"'Sides, Dumbledore – well his portrait – agreed that maybe it'd be best if Harry kept the number of people who know the cloak limited, since it's _special_ ," Ron explains, bulging his eyes to emphasize the point and Ginny's grin is almost at it's usual wattage when they round the next corner and come face to face with Tierney.

"Where's Naida?"

Ron scowls, "You mean your murderous wife? She's been sneaking water from the Well behind everyone's backs," Tierney can't hide his shock as Ron's growling explanation proceeds, "Went on a power trip, tried to kill us all, and ended up getting misted in the process."

Tierney's renewed stern expression falters as he finally catches up, "She's – you – "

In a split second, Tierney's on the attack, but his spells are slipshod and messy as he fights with more anger than precision. The ensuing duel is brief but heated, with Ron taking the brunt as he works Tierney into a corner and ties him up with silvery ropes from his wand. "Care to give us directions to your other captives?"

Beaten down, Tierney complies with relatively little difficulty, giving the foursome directions to the cavern where Sam's wife Katie is being held, along with quite a few young nymphs shivering and held in circles that appear to be variations on fairie rings.

Ginny quickly works the binding from the woman while Hermione and Ron study the runes holding the others. "You must be Katie," and before the woman can get beyond a questioning glance, Ginny smiles comfortingly, "Sam sent us."

"Sam – he's alright?" Katie gasps, "What he must be thinking – the day before I was _taken_ we fought. It was stupid."

"He's just worried about you." Ginny pats her arm and only then notices Katie flinch at the contact. Carefully, she rolls her sleeve back and her forearm is littered with cuts and bruises, her nails bloody and torn.

"Cruciatus?" Harry guesses, expression grim. And Katie nods weakly, melting back into Ginny's arms until she remembers her fellow prisoners. She catches Hermione's attention and the two women converse in a strange sort of short hand that the other three only just follow, and soon enough the nymphs are released from their prisons. Weak and pale, but alive.

Katie's bloodied hands turn luminescent and she rises with some assistance, and walks toward the trio of nymphs, her palms pressing against their cheeks, framing their faces one at a time as she temporarily rejuvenates them with murmured words that send ancient magic swirling. When she slumps back against the cave wall, worn from the effort, Katie brushes her lank hair back from her round face, "They'll need to partake in the official ceremony still, but this will be enough for the time being. It's a private and fairly guarded secret."

Hermione's eyes widen almost imperceptibly and Harry can practically feel her suppressing the urge to ask, when Katie smiles, "Of course _the_ Hermione Granger can attend."

As they slowly make their way from the caves, setting wards behind them as they go, Ron asks, "What of the water then? Is it over? The Well?"

"It'll need to be moved back by myself and the other protectors," Katie answers, grim, "It will be quite the undertaking. I'm afraid I can't tell you more."

Ginny flicks her wand toward the main entrance as they emerge, using the spell Harry and Ron had taught them in the main cavern. "Will this be much like the Tart Mor?"

"As far as my understanding goes, it will be somewhat less of a drought. At least shorter. But we will have to go through a cleansing period which will hurt those of us with nymph ancestry," Katie explains while Ron sends his silvery terrier off into the night, presumably to give Kingsley an update and request back up.

"Still, maybe it's best that our little village remember what mortal life is like, at least for a season. Perhaps we'll finally learn from our history of mistakes."

The Aurors arrive with near silent pops and set up various stations across the grassy plain to begin processing the people they arrest and set up protective wards while Ginny makes Katie see the Triage Healer, who after a brief examination decides a follow up at Mungo's will suffice.

Once the area is secure, and the nymphs are reunited with their much depleted sisters, they apparate to Aengus' shop, where Katie doesn't even pause as she pushes through the door and shouts for Sam. He's barreling down the creaky stairs two at a time, Sam sweeps Katie into his arms in a flash and they crumple to the floor, trembling with silent tears as he kisses everywhere he can reach.

As the two couples make to give the reunited family their privacy, Aengus pads down the stairs, wrinkled face light with happiness they haven't seen. Still, there's mischief in his eyes as he follows the group outside and tugs Harry close, "Those two'll be wanting to get reacquainted. Can't say I blame 'em."

Harry nods and offers his hand to shake, but Aengus just grips it tightly, "Also can't say I want to see or hear it." Harry nearly chokes on his tongue while Ron nods sagely behind him, muttering about kindred spirits and sisters and best mates with no self control, and Aengus just presses on, "Point is, my randy grandson deserves some peace with his wife and I'm starved. How 'bout you show an old man London?"

"As long as you don't try to steal Ginny away.  I can't compete," Harry grins and Ginny wraps her arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his chest and pinching his side.  "Don't fight over me boys, my heart belongs to Quidditch."


End file.
